The Games Children Play
by SongofFete
Summary: Five months after Paylor assumes presidency over Panem, she reluctantly makes the decision to allow one final games featuring children of the Capitol. The twist? All Capitol children between the ages of six and eighteen are potentially eligible for reaping. Follow 13 year old Saoirse Rudolphine and her allies in the first - and last - Capitol Games.
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

It was five months to the day since Paylor had assumed presidency over Panem. At first there had been a sense of relief that the fighting was over. The majority of Capitol citizens just wanted to be told they could go home and be looked after, they could go back to pressing a button to shower and feed themselves while they stared at a technicolour screen for entertainment. Those from the Districts felt a renewed sense of hope that they would have some control over their lives from now on.

The trouble was, all of this took time. Bombings had taken place in at least half the districts so a great many people had no homes to go to. Temporary accommodation had to be arranged. Food had to be transported to certain districts as a matter of urgency to avoid vast swathes of the country dying of starvation. Even with these measures, hundreds had died in district Six of a mixture of starvation and sickness, with Eight only avoiding a similar catastrophe due to being closer to the food production districts.

Once the initial disasters were averted, the unrest began. As the districts started to rebuild, the work was long and arduous and living conditions for many were no better than under Snow's presidency. The immediate and noticeable difference was the lack of punishment for all but the most serious crimes. Electric fences surrounding the districts were switched off; those who were capable of hunting and gathering could do so without fear of reprisals now. Indeed, these people were better off; trading what they could catch or find provided a new career away from the hard work of their districts. The sizeable borders of wilderness in between the districts even proved attractive to a few hardy souls; notably those from districts 7 and 10. There were clearings of land and homesteads being built where nobody would have dared consider living just a year earlier.

Now that movement between districts was no longer outlawed, there was a small but noticeable migration of workers from districts 9 through 11 to the edges of the urban districts, where they set up farms on the outskirts of the towns, just out of the factory shadows. Conversely some former inhabitants of the urban districts - those from 3 who had failed the exacting school exams and struggled to find even the most menial work, or workers from 8 who preferred to try an outdoor life away from the factories - had migrated to the far North of 7 or the fruitful climes of 11. While each district maintained a distinct identity, there was a definite blurring of previously well-defined lines.

But there was anger, too. Those who had lost everything couldn't be convinced that the Capitolians weren't still living in luxury, and they were angry. Paylor could have reinstated mandatory TV viewing, shown film of the vast swathes of the Capitol that had been bombed to the ground or destroyed by the traps, but after the Propos both sides had utilised during the war, citizens were wiser...or believed they were. Whatever they were shown, there were still some who would believe they were being lied to, and the unrest would continue. Oh, it wasn't enough that there was the threat of another uprising, more rumbles of dissatisfaction stemming from the suspicion that they were the only ones suffering. There were still people in the districts who wanted to watch the Capitol suffer.

With a heavy heart, Paylor had spent days considering the choice that the seven remaining Hunger Games victors had made. To have another Games, with children of the Capitol. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it could work this time, one final games that would unite rather than split the districts. By the time she took the plan before her council, it was already well considered, and she had answers to most of their objections. She hoped.

Paylor had never intended to take a position of power. She had fallen into the highest position in Panem almost by accident. She'd been an ordinary if charismatic student during her schooldays, unanimously voted class president at the age of twelve and retaining the position until she left school four years later. Aged sixteen, she was already a production supervisor in the factory nearest her home, overseeing twelve other people and gaining a reputation for being fair if strict. It was a matter of pride to her that the sock production line never once fell behind its quota. By the time she aged out of reapings she was sharing a two-room apartment with her girlfriend Scarlet and had been promoted again. Now with eighty people underneath her, Paylor had no thoughts of rebellion and indeed her workers often joked that she would be District Eight's mayor by her twenty first birthday.

Paylor had little interest in politics and instead continued in a job she genuinely enjoyed, once again moving up the ranks until she was in charge of the entire factory. Life was tiring but good, and she and her girlfriend were thinking of starting a family when Scarlet was seriously injured when she was knocked down by a transport truck that was taking the latest shipment of fabric to the Capitol. Despite her position, Paylor was unable to afford the medical treatment that could have saved her, and three days later Scarlet died. The tragedy marked the beginning of Paylor's turn from ordinary citizen into rebel.

Three weeks after burying the love of her life she was shocked when District 8's most recent victor paid her a visit, supposedly to offer her condolences. But Cecelia was offering something more, and the woman who might have descended into grief instead channelled her emotions into something far more dangerous. With the aid of fragile discs of bread, messages of rebellion were spread across the district. Their first attempt to overthrow the peacekeepers failed and resulted in Paylor's factory being destroyed, but nobody suspected she could have been involved. By the time it occurred to anyone that the charismatic woman might actually be a rebel, she had slipped down into the sewers where she met up with her most trusted allies. From there, they co-ordinated Eight's uprising and by the time of the quarter quell she was unofficial leader of the district.

From unofficial leader of her rebellious district to official leader of Panem...it had been a long, painful journey.

She looked around the room. All the higher councillors were here, eighteen in total. The ministers for transport, food and housing, her deputy, herself, and all thirteen representatives for the districts. These had been voted for by their own districts. A few were the former mayors. District Three had voted for a popular peacekeeper who, though now retired, had always tried to protect 'his' people. Nine was represented by the daughter of a victor. Six, by the doctor who had struggled to keep the extent of his district's morphling addiction under control. In short, all were represented by someone who lived in the district, with one exception. Dr Aurelius was assisting Twelve's representative, a young girl named Delly Cartwright. Her name had been put forward by no less than sixteen separate individuals but she had only agreed to the job in the condition that someone from the Capitol help her. There was no way she could do such an important job by herself, she had insisted, and she was delighted to be introduced to the doctor who had helped her 'amazing friend' Katniss Everdeen. Now, as her eyes met Paylor's, she beamed joyfully at the president as if this meeting was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Paylor couldn't help but smile back, and she relaxed just a little.

"You've read the reports, I believe" she began, gesturing to the sheaf of documents that lay on the table on front of her "Unrest in the districts is growing. Many citizens are convinced that they are getting a worse deal than those in the Capitol, that things are reverting to how they have always been. We need to deal with the unrest with the minimum of disruption to the districts. All of you are aware of the decision which was voted on by the seven remaining victors at the end of the uprising..."

Immediately there was uproar. Raised voices, almost everyone speaking at once. Paylor let them react for a minute, then raised her hand for order. Reluctantly, the voices hushed.

"I don't like the idea, but it seems the only logical choice. Given that less than half a year ago the districts were clamouring for the deaths of everyone in the Capitol, and given that the surviving victors - well, most of them - voted for a final games... this way, we allow the Capitol to feel the fear and anxiety that comes prior to a reaping."

"Madam President, six months ago I would have been happy to kill Capitolians myself. But now – how do we select which children go in? Those who were in the previous government are either in prison or working to restore the districts they tried to destroy. Surely you're not suggesting their children should be punished as well?"

Paylor smiled at the polite, mild-mannered woman in her mid fifties who was the widow of District Seven's mayor . "Not at all. What I'm suggesting is that ALL Capitol children are put into the reaping. Just as no district child was exempt, neither should any Capitolian be. If their parents were directly connected with the games then they can have more reaping slips – rather like our own children taking out tesserae." Now the room was quieter. Not yet on her side, but curious. Listening, prepared to give the concept fair consideration. Here and there, nods of acceptance began.

"So how does this work? We pick out all the kids from ages 12 to 18 and – what? Put them into a giant reaping bowl and just pick out the ones to take part? How do we even get them together?"

"We don't" Paylor said shortly, acknowledging Fynn Flanagan, great niece of the legendary woman from district four who had perished in the third Quarter Quell "We divide them into districts, so instead of having twenty six children pitted against each other in a giant mess, they each represent one of Panem's districts. Many of the Capitol citizens have district connections, no matter how tenuous, so we divide them up that way"

"Twenty SIX? Two for the Capitol?"

"Two for District thirteen. They took part in the war, and it would be unfair to exempt any district from having someone to root for. I also wouldn't want them to feel superior during the...training". If any of the representatives noticed Paylor's slight hesitation they didn't comment on it. Eller Bright of District Five, a man in his sixties, spoke up.

"So assuming we decide to go for this. Are there enough Capitol children to make it a good...show?" he grimaced with distaste and Paylor recalled that, long ago, he had watched his son die in the games. The boy had been friendly, personable...and had turned fifteen the night of the interviews.

"Children enough. Especially as we will be including all Capitol children over the age of six" again there were gasps "Think about it. For seventy five years they watched district teenagers fight to the death. For the thirty-fifth games nobody reaped was over the age of fourteen, and I have no doubt they had just as many viewing parties that year as any other. Many in the Capitol will be virtually immune to a sad-faced twelve year old, even one of their own. But bring in the possibility of some really young ones..."

"Excuse me, Madam President" Delly Cartwright had raised her hand "I don't think I like this idea. Too many people have died already, and..."

"You're going to have another rebellion on your hands" finished Fynn with what might have been a smirk.

"No, we aren't. For one very good reason." Paylor smiled and told them the rest of the plan.

**A/N This will be a full-length story that *could* have happened after the end of Mockingjay. We'll be following one OC tribute and her alliance for the most part, but look out for plenty of canon cameo appearances. Hope to see you in the next chapter where you'll meet some of our tributes!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Report

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Report delivered to President Paylor; three months prior to the Capitol Games.**

CAPITOL GAMES: Mentors, Stylists and Recommendations.

**1\. TRIBUTES**

All Capitol children have been informed which district they shall be entered for. If an entrant's family has connections with a specific district, that is the one they may be chosen to represent. This has naturally meant that some districts have more representatives, particularly One and Four, for obvious and unsavoury reasons. Twelve and Thirteen have very few representatives. Entrants who have on familial connection with any district have been distributed as evenly as possible. The tribute committee worked on this for a fortnight and have found this to be the most acceptable resolution.

Furthermore, this week each child will be informed of the number of slips they will have in the reaping bowl, much like tesserae, and the reasons behind the number. Minimally, this means one slip per year of their age. Extra slips are allocated according to familial involvement with the games or the rebellion. Some examples: Parent purchasing "Victor services" adds five slips in total for under twelves and five slips per year for over twelves. Relatives of those peripherally involved with the Games (doctors, trainers eg); same principal but ten slips. Relatives of those in Snow's government, same principal but 100 slips. For full details please see Appendix A.

Volunteers will be allowed.

**2\. MENTORS**

All known surviving Victors or their representatives have been contacted.

The following have agreed to take part:

Enobaria Golding, District Two. Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games and survivor of the Quarter Quell

Beetee Latier, District Three. Victor of the 38th Hunger Games and survivor of the Quarter Quell

Riley Sparks, District Three. Victor of the 22nd Hunger Games. Survived the rebellion and subsequent Victor's purge by electrifying his daughter's entire house so nobody could get in or out.

The following have declined:

Commander Lyme Orion, District Two. Victor of the 52nd Hunger Games. Paralysed during the fall of The Nut. Willing to offer advice via camera feed but does not wish to be seen in public.

Basalt Ajax, District Two. Victor of the 61st Hunger Games. Survived the fall of the Nut. Does not wish to have any further contact with the Capitol.

Annie Cresta, District Four. Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. Survived the Victor Purge after being rescued by District Thirteen. Doctor Aurelius has explained to her the full plan behind these Games and assured her that viewing will not be mandatory.

Selena Bishop, District Eight. Victor of the 46th Hunger Games. Survived the Victor Purge by disguising herself and hiding in the Capitol. Does not wish to take part.

Peeta Mellark, District Twelve. Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Survived the Victor Purge after being rescued by District Thirteen. Doctor Aurelius has spoken with him at length and explained the reasoning behind these Games, and he has reluctantly agreed not to oppose them.

Other:

Johanna Mason informed us in typically colourful language that she is undecided and may yet decide to participate.

Tullius Bentley, District Six. Victor of the 68th Hunger Games; escaped the Capitol and believed to now be living in District Nine with two adopted children. Due to his diminished mental capacity he has not been contacted, but the District Nine liaison will explain the situation to him if he sees anything on television and it becomes necessary.

Ranger Tempest, District Ten. Victor of the 54th Hunger Games. Survived the Victor Purge by hiding out in the wilderness beyond the district fences. Could not be contacted, but a letter has been left for him explaining the situation should he return to the district.

At the request of Peeta Mellarck, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games: Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Hunger Games and Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the 74h Hunger Games of District Twelve have not been informed. He has assured us that as they have no televisions and rarely leave their homes it is highly unlikely they will even find out these Games are taking place.

Due to the low number of mentors, the District representatives will act as Escorts and each tribute will get a minimum of three hours contact time with a Mentor, to be allocated by ballot.

**3\. STYLISTS**

No stylists survived the rebellion. However the following citizens will be acting as stylists for these Games in return for one year's free rent on a modest one-bedroom apartment on Capitol Row or the district of their choice.

Former stylist Tigris, aged 87, will oversee Districts One and Two.

Former stylist Count Scarlett, aged 44, will oversee Districts Three and Four.

Former skin beautification specialist Venia Vanilla will oversee Districts Five and Six. NB: she has agreed to be a stylist on the condition she is not seen on camera and is allowed to return to District Thirteen immediately following the games to rejoin her colleagues Flavius Leto and Octavia Twinkle, who she informs us remain too traumatised to assist.

Former hairstylist Aquamarine Ardor will oversee District Seven. Aged 83, she was a prep for District Seven between the 15th - 38th Games.

Body modification student Dionysus Vale, aged 18, will oversee Districts Eight and Nine.

Skin specialist Pippy Snowdrop, aged 21, will oversee Districts Ten and Eleven. She was apprenticed to District 11's prep team for the 75th Games.

Nail artist Prodigy Flora, aged 19, will oversee Districts Twelve and Thirteen.

**4\. Escorts**

Two escorts survived the rebellion. Effie Trinket is now living in District One and teaching at an elementary school, and Satina Sparkle is rumoured to be living with Basalt Ajax of District Two. Both have declined to take any part in these games.

Therefore the District representatives have agreed to act as escorts to the tributes as follows:

District One - Diamond Shadow

District Two - Snub Granite

District Three - Dupont Halifax

District Four - Fynn Flanagan

District Five - Eller Bright

District Six - Dr. Cordelia Autus

District Seven - Lady Briar Oakley

District Eight - Twilla Floss

District Nine - Maizie Miller

District Ten - Cooper Smith

District Eleven - Argula Finch

District Twelve - Delly Cartwright, advised by Dr Aurelius.

District Thirteen - Britannica Gold

**~ Report ends ~**

* * *

In a small third-floor apartment, entirely unlike the plush, spacious rooms in which she'd lived the first twelve years of her life, Saoirse Rudolphine twirled a lock of faded yellow hair around one finger and stared at the document. Fifty-eight slips for her, 46 for her sister...and just 6 for her brother. One for each year of his age. The numbers would mean nothing until she could compare notes with the girls at school, it was the words at the top of the page that made her frown. _Parent paid for relations with District Five victor Cyra Luned. _Aunt Cyra. She'd visited every year for as long as Saoirse could remember, right up until she'd been killed in the third quarter quell. But...she and Mum were friends. That was why she'd visited.

"...wasn't it?" Saoirse didn't realise she'd been speaking out loud until she looked up from the paper she was holding and saw her mother's stricken face. Her mind raced. She'd heard of prostitution, of course. Everyone knew how girls and boys from District One liked to come and work in the licensed Capitol brothels so they could send money home to their families. The Capitol were kind enough to fake documentation so fourteen and fifteen year olds could come and work there early, they...

"I think...after the third or fourth year, she'd started to think of me as a friend" Swann Rudolphine said quietly, staring at the wall. "And then you were born, and of course she had Iovita, so we had something in common at last, so when she visited, instead of, um...well, we talked, and..." Saoirse saw tears in her mother's eyes, and she was afraid for the first time. Not that she would get picked, for the games were just something that happened on a faraway big screen, Saoirse didn't even connect the concept of death with the scenes she'd watched for as long as she could remember - but for what she was about to hear. So she said "Isn't it time to pick Lyssa up from her dance class?" and Swann wiped her eyes and smiled and said yes, they should probably get going, and they didn't talk about it again.

* * *

Six hundred and six slips. Jupiter Mondrian folded the letter carefully and tucked it under his mattress so nobody else would see. It was times like this when he missed his mother the most. Having someone to hug at the end of the day, just knowing somebody had his back. She was working in District Seven now, digging trenches to plant new trees and whatever else they were making her do out there. It was much better than prison, she had told him in all three of the letters she'd been allowed to send. At least she got to be outside and talk to people, and the food was decent if plain and dull, and she was working.

"What you doing, traitor boy?" sneered a voice. Jupiter calmly stood up as the older boy slunk into the dormitory. He knew better than to look scared. They only liked it more if he was scared. They two boys stood face to face, though Jupiter had to crane his neck. The boy shoved him, not painfully but hard enough that he fell back onto his bed. "Toilet's blocked again. Miss White wants you to come and clean it out" the boy sneered.

Jupiter picked himself up as the boy walked out. Maybe there was a blocked toilet, or maybe not. He should go and find out. Being the son of one of Snow's most trusted advisors didn't help him much these days, not now he was living in a community home. He thought about those six hundred and six slips again, and how likely it was that he would be end up in the Capitol games, even though he was only eleven years old and wouldn't even have been eligible if he'd been born in one of the districts. Ah, well.

At least he might meet some people who didn't hate him before the end.

* * *

She supposed it was her name that had connected her to District Nine. Abundance Verity's mother had died during the final days of the rebellion, caught in one of the pods in their street as she'd tried to buy food for the family, but she'd never done anything wrong. Dad worked in a nail salon, but there hadn't been much call for his trade since President Snow had died, so money was tight now. At seventeen, Abundance had wanted to be TV presenter, but now she found herself spending her days processing deliveries in a warehouse that distributed food supplies throughout Panem. It wasn't something she'd ever imagine herself doing, but she couldn't deny the small thrill of independence she felt every time she collected her paycheck and knew she could afford to support herself for another month.

Twelve slips, she thought. Twelve slips, and the name of a victor. It wasn't likely she was going to be the one to get picked.

* * *

A year ago he hadn't even known District Thirteen still existed, and now he was potentially expected to represent them in a death match? Arctic Corbin wasn't angry, not exactly, but the unfairness of the situation stung painfully. In fact it was doubly unfair, because if he was another month older he would be too old for this whole charade and someone else would have to take part. It wasn't as if he'd ever particularly enjoyed the games, despite teasing from his friends that he preferred to live in a fantasy world rather than watch real life. And he didn't even have any connection with District Thirteen. No connection with any of the districts in fact - his parents were just regular actors, appearing in one of the Capitol's most popular soap operas. The one upside was that he had just thirteen slips - presumably, one per year from the ages if six to eighteen - so surely it wasn't likely he was going to be chosen.

Nonetheless, Arctic carefully folded the letter and left the apartment, heading for the newly-erected justice building for his area where he politely knocked on the door and asked if there wasn't someone he could talk to about this. He had no doubt that this was all a mistake and someone would sort it all out promptly.

* * *

"How many is five hundred and ten?"

"A lot, darling. More than there are days in a year."

"Because Daddy was a gamemaker?"

"That's right."

Aspen Ambrose thought about this for a while. She looked at the piece of paper again, reading it very carefully. Some of the words were new to her, but five hundred was a big number, and the bigger the number, the more likely you were going to have to play the games. Mum looked sad, and Aspen couldn't bear that. She got up and went over to Mum and gave her a big hug.

"If I have to play the games, will you come with me?" she asked, signing as she spoke. But Mum shook her head. "I don't think they'll let me" she signed back.

That made sense, Aspen thought. Mum was an Avox, so she wasn't allowed to do lots of things. Like when Daddy's wife had been alive, and neither of them had been allowed out of the apartment. She hadn't even seen grass until she was eight years old. Then things had changed, and Daddy had let them go out after dark as long as they wore long cloaks and Aspen promised not to talk to anyone. It was like a game, pretending to fade into the street like you weren't really there, until they got to the park and Aspen was allowed to play on all the swings and slides that the regular Capitol children used during the daytime.

Then things had changed again and Daddy had come home scared, and said nobody was going to go out at all. Mum had gone out anyway, and she'd come back with food, and shook her head and refused to sign when Daddy asked where she'd got it from, but they'd stayed inside and eaten the food while there were bad noises and screams outside. Then one morning Aspen had woken up and Daddy wasn't there any more, and when she asked Mum where he was Mum didn't know, but she'd looked sad.

And now there were five hundred and ten chances that Aspen was going to have to play the games.

* * *

**A/N I'm so sorry I started and then seemed to abandon this fic! I have the whole story drafted and then I lost confidence in the idea. But it won't leave me alone, so now I'm back and determined to write to the end. I hope you're staying safe, wherever you are. **


	3. Chapter 3: The Reaping

There seemed to be a lot of people in the crowd. Saoirse was standing with her brother and sister and pretending she wasn't worried. She knew now that fifty six slips was about normal - there was a boy in her hairdressing class who had over three hundred, and he treated it like a badge of honour. He felt he'd earned those slips by being the son of the gamemaker who had designed the mutts used at the end of the seventy-fourth games. Saoirse had never liked him. He was standing across from them now, smirking and waving to any girl who caught his eye. Saoirse almost hoped he got picked. Idiot.

It was a bright, sunny day and the three Rudolphine siblings were standing in the full sun. Saoirse wished she'd thought about that when they'd tried to get a position near the front so they could see what was going on. With almost eight hundred children here, the square felt oddly claustrophobic, and when she tried to move into the shade, she realised they were too closely packed to be able to move more than a few inches in any direction. It was a scary thought, so she made herself think about something useful. Her hair, that was always worth thinking about. Each child had dyed theirs a different colour so they'd look their best for the reapings - Saoirse's was a cheerful shade of candy pink, Lyssa's was bright green and Victor had chosen dark purple. Hopefully the colours wouldn't fade as a result of being exposed to the strong sunlight. There just wasn't the money to choose a new colour every couple of weeks like there used to be.

Having expected a well-dressed, attractive escort the girl was surprised when an old man dressed in simple clothes stepped into the stage. He started to talk, introduced himself as Eller Bright, representative for District Five, and already Saoirse had tuned his voice out. Lyssa had begged a stick of bubble gum from another girl and was blowing large blue bubbles, much to Victor's amusement and he jumped and tried to pop them. The man droned on about these being the final games, and how the surviving victors had voted by a majority to hold them. Blah, blah, blah. Saoirse nudged them both to pay attention as the old man crossed to the reaping bowl.

"The female District Five tribute representative is... Saoirse Rudolphine!"

There was silence. Saoirse heard her name, but it didn't seem to belong to her. Neither did her legs, which felt shaky and numb, or her eyes, which couldn't seem to focus on anything. Why had the man read her name out? Couldn't he have picked someone else instead? Saoirse remembered now how much she hated being singled out for attention; how she tried not to be called out to demonstrate a new style of eyebrow jewellery in front of the class and the time she'd pretended to be ill when it was her turn to read out her essay on Capitol architecture.

"Don't just stand there, idiot!" It wasn't until Lyssa elbowed her sharply in the ribs that she remembered what she had to do now. Strangely, the crowd had parted to allow her a clear path up to the stage, and she wondered vaguely how they all knew her name. She walked slowly, remembering that crying would be shown on the recaps later, that she shouldn't look frightened and she should act like this was a great honour...

Saoirse had always liked the tributes who claimed being reaped or volunteering was a great honour. They had seemed brave and clever to her, special so that she wanted to be like them. On that interminable walk to the stage, they suddenly seemed incredibly stupid. She suddenly realised that they didn't stand and stare silently out into the crowd because they were brave or clever. They did it because their minds had somehow stopped working and they couldn't think what else to do. The old man spoke to her, and somehow she managed to say her name into the microphone, to tell everyone how it was spelt, because nobody ever imagines that "Saw-sha" is spelt with an a, o and i in the middle. Even more blessedly she managed to stop talking before her voice cracked and she started to cry. Lyssa grinned and waved, as if she still thought it was a huge game. Mr Bright asked if there were any volunteers in a voice that sounded as if he didn't expect anyone, then patted her on the shoulder in what felt like it could have been a sympathetic fashion before he moved over to the boy's reaping bowl.

"The male tribute representative is... Argon Skymark!"

There was another hush and a boy would couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old made his way slowly towards the stage. At first Saoirse thought he was just scared, then she realised he was walking with an ornate cane. Perhaps he'd been injured during the final days of the Capitol siege, during that horrible time when Mum had kept them all indoors with the curtains drawn and there hadn't been enough to eat. Saoirse could still taste the cold tinned potatoes they'd shared on the day before the rebellion ended...

The old man held out a hand to help Argon up the steps, almost lifting him onto the stage (Saoirse noted in a vague, faraway manner that he must be stronger, and perhaps younger than he looked to be able to do that) and asking his name as he had with Saoirse. Then, in the same resigned voice he asked for volunteers, clearly expecting no response.

"I von'teer as tribute!"

A lone voice, very young, sounding excited and delighted as if this was the best game that could possibly be played. Two gasps of "No!" one from Saoirse herself and one from her mother as they both realised that the volunteer was little Victor, dancing happily to the stage and climbing up all by himself even though he had to lift his knees almost to waist height to mount the steps one at a time. He stood on tiptoe in his eagerness to speak into the microphone.

"I'm Victor Rudolphine and I'm six years and three months old and now that boy doesn't have to play games with his poorly leg and I'm going to play the games with my big sister!"

Saoirse remembered that she wasn't supposed to cry, but her nose was stinging and prickling, and even with her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, she couldn't prevent the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

* * *

They were escorted into a nearby building that smelled of paper and cleaning fluid and taken to a small room. Saoirse was still gripping her brother's hand tightly to make sure he didn't wander off anywhere, and her mind was racing. She had watched the games since she was four years old, but they never showed what happened right after the reapings. It wasn't until Mum came into the room and scooped Victor up in her arms that a surprising thought hit her for the first time. The relatives that were interviewed for the final eight each year must really be related to the tributes. They actually loved them and cared for them. That was followed by another thought, that if they weren't actors, then all the tributes must have families who loved them. That was...kind of sad. Saoirse wasn't sure if -

"If you don't come back I'm getting a room all to myself again!"

Saoirse glared at her sister. Once upon a time they'd been close, but since the fall of the Capitol and poor President Snow things had been different. Lyssa hated having to share a bedroom and was even more annoyed that she had to wear clothes that Saoirse had grown out of while Saoirse still got bought new clothes. The fact that Saoirse had had precisely one new dress and one new pair of shoes in the past eight months, both of which she was wearing today, didn't lessen the rift between them. Swann Rudolphine crossed to the girls and sat down on the squashy sofa. Victor immediately scrambled into her lap.

"Mum, if Saoirse doesn't win can I have her make up?"

Saoirse couldn't help herself. She slapped Lyssa across the face with a shriek and stormed away, though she couldn't go far because the door was closed and when she tried to open it, it felt like someone was holding it from the outside. Her eyes were stinging again, but there was no way she was going to give Lyssa the satisfaction, not while she was pretending to sob and trying to push Victor out of their mother's lap. She clung to the door handle with both hands as she took three deep breaths, like they'd learnt to do in beauty class because it helped you prepare for your first leg wax. Helped you feel calm and tell yourself that it wouldn't hurt. Saoirse told herself very firmly that it didn't hurt at all as she turned round.

"Mum, I love you and I...I promise I'll look after Victor. And...and you can give Lyssa everything, because I don't care about stuff like that anymore..." she had to stop and take another deep breath, but that was good, because she remembered a bit of what was supposed to happen next, and she actually managed a creditable smirk "Don't you remember what happens next, Lyssa? Tributes get new clothes and shiny new apartments to stay in, and whatever food they like. You can keep all my OLD stuff." Her younger sister let out a shriek and started to storm towards her, but years of being sisters meant Saoirse was able to dodge around her and dart over to their mother.

"I mean it, Mum. We're going to be okay. We'll..." she thought hard "we'll get lots of sponsors because everyone will think we're pretty, and we'll get lots of allies and...and we'll see you soon, okay?"

Saoirse didn't believe much of what she was saying, but she hoped with every fibre of her being that at least some of it was true. She knew there were things that came after looking pretty and making allies, but she wasn't going to let herself think about that now, because that was going to be the scary part. At the very least, as her mother burst into tears and pulled all three of her children into a fierce hug, she'd wiped that rotten smirk off her sister's face.

* * *

There weren't many children in the square reserved for the District Seven representatives. A couple of hundred, perhaps. Jupiter noted with relief that most of them were older than him; the youngest kid looked about eight, and she was clinging to the hand of a girl at least a foot taller than she was. He hated this, hated everything about it, but at least he wasn't going to have to watch a sobbing six year old climb up onto the stage. If you could even call it a stage, he thought as he looked at the plinth that had formerly held a statue of Athena. Mother had called her a goddess, but she hadn't really known what that meant, just that it was what her grandmother had told her.

The statue was gone now; the rubble long since cleared away and the only remnants left an inch or so of something that might once have represented sandals. The woman who introduced herself claimed to be the wife of the former mayor of District Seven. She looked tired, worn and sad, and Jupiter wondered how much she'd suffered in the war. He had a lot of thoughts like that, these days. Even the other kids at the home who bullied him - he couldn't bring himself to hate them, not knowing that they'd lost their parents as well...and really lost them, to death or disease, not just to incarceration in a faraway district.

"The female tribute representative for District Seven is Aspen Ambrose!"

Jupiter scanned the crowd of girls, surprised when a pretty, smiling girl with a butterfly painted on one side of her face waved to the woman and called out that she was coming, not to worry. Was he imagining things, or were her words slightly indistinct? She was no eighteen year old in with a chance of winning, that was for sure. Jupiter assumed she was the same age as him, only... more innocent. She mounted the stage and immediately asked whether her Mum was allowed to play the games with her, adding that Mum had said there were rules, but she wanted to ask anyway, just in case.

The mayor's wife looked sadder than ever, and without prompting, Aspen hugged her. There were a few scattered sniggers from somewhere in the crowd, but mostly there was silence.

And then Jupiter's name was called, and he felt sadness and resignation and he closed his ears to the shouts of "traitor boy" and blinked hard so he wouldn't cry when he stood up there and faced everyone.

His voice sounded strange and young when he repeated his name into the microphone, like the voice of a child, and it came as a shock, because most days he felt far older than eleven. He felt like he'd lived a whole lifetime already, and now with a nasty jolt Jupiter remembered that he was just a little boy, but he didn't cry, even if he couldn't think of anything else to say. And then, unexpectedly there was a warm hand in his own and Aspen was introducing herself and asking if he wanted to be her friend, and bizarrely, Jupiter felt as if being reaped for these games might just be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

* * *

"It's not your fault what your mother was."

Jupiter looked up in surprise. The matron of his childrens' home wasn't his only visitor, but she was the only one who'd been allowed into the room with him. The chanting crowd of his tormentors who had followed him in here and been stopped at the doorway. From in here, the usual cries of 'traitor boy' were muted. Jupiter could almost pretend they weren't really there, like the soundtrack of a TV show.

"I mean it. You're not a bad kid. And you always volunteered to clean out the toilet, that's more than I can say for any of the others"

Jupiter's mind raced, came to the only possible conclusion, and he let out a shocked giggle as he realised the other kids had 'volunteered' him. All this time he'd assumed Matron was using it as a form of punishment. He felt almost fond of the woman at that moment. "Thanks, Miss White. I guess... this is goodbye then" he said, solemnly offering a handshake.

"Maybe. I read about the first games. None of the kids were trained that year. Maybe you've got a chance" she shrugged, and even gave his hand a squeeze as she held it a fraction longer than convention dictated.

Jupiter sat down in the armchair and swung his legs thoughtfully after the woman had left. He actually felt a little better.

* * *

A scream rent the air in the District Nine square. One hundred and ninety three girls breathed a sigh of relief that they were going to be safe as a plump, olive-skinned girl with faded blue hair sank to her knees in terror. The peacekeepers were almost gentle as they lifted her to her feet and escorted her to the stage where she continued to have hysterics and beg for her Daddy to rescue her. There was a pause while the escort stared at her, undecided. Maizie Miller, daughter of District Nine's only female victor Abundance Harper, wanted to hate her mother's namesake. As the girl continued to sob though, instead she put a hand briefly on her shoulder as she called for volunteers, quietly, so as not to raise any hope. An uncomfortable silence was broken only by a few whispers, and she crossed to the other side of the stage.

"Bastion Indigo!"

As the girl continued to sob, a boy in his mid teens approached the stage. He looked terrified and ready to throw up, but was at least managing to hold himself together enough to walk unaided. Maizie wished she was somewhere - anywhere - else as the boy introduced himself, and then in the same quiet tones she asked for volunteers.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

Three heads jerked up in surprise from the stage and there were murmurings around the square as a young man approached. Clearly he was still young enough to be reaped, barely, but he was close to six feet tall, well-built and surprisingly calm. At least he would have a sporting chance of lasting past the first five minutes. He gave his name as Richmond Halifax, nodded briefly to the relieved Bastion who scuttled gratefully offstage and whispered something to Abundance that had her looking up at him with a kind of desperate hope in her eyes.

That hope lasted right until she threw herself into her Daddy's arms in the waiting room and they sobbed together in a way that felt exactly like they were saying goodbye.

* * *

Most of the people standing in the small holding area for District Thirteen were either bemused or irritated. Right up until the moment he was reaped, Arctic Corbin fell into the former category. The people at the justice building had been very polite and had listen to his request, and had agreed that it was very unfortunate that in another month he would be too old to participate anyway. Even though they had done nothing, he truly believed that his proactive approach would have worked in his favour and they would just forget to put his name into the reaping system.

Apparently it hadn't worked, he thought, heart sinking as he walked into the area where the escort was standing. District Thirteen was such an afterthought that there was no stage here, just a couple of steps up to a kind of platform where a scared-looking fifteen year old called Laurana Pinkerton stood in a ballgown that would have been stunning when it was new. He took the girl's hand when prompted and wondered vaguely why she cringed away from him.

* * *

"Will you visit the justice building again? Just in case?"

Arctic still sounded calm, but he didn't feel that way. Logically, he knew that he was probably the eldest tribute and would have decent odd, but for one thing.

"Of course we will" Dad assured him "We're famous, the public won't stand for this. You'll be home by tomorrow afternoon and..."

"Don't lose who you are" Pops interrupted, tearful, and suddenly Arctic was struggling not to cry as he was pulled into a sudden hug.

"I'm not going to kill anyone, if that's what you mean. I promise..." he whispered fiercely.

Pops always was the emotional one, pulling off his wedding ring and pressing it into Arctic's hand. Then he broke down entirely, his voice thick with tears. "What if we never see you again?"

"I'll..." Arctic didn't know what to say. He'd been raised a pacifist, and the mere thought of hurting someone made him feel ill.

"You'll do what you have to do, and remember we're proud of you and we love you no matter what" said Dad fiercely, and after that there didn't seem to be anything left to say.

* * *

**A/N: So here are my favourites, whose viewpoints you'll be seeing the most of throughout the games prep and beyond. Next chapter you'll see the rest of the tributes as one of the main characters watches the televised reapings. Hope you're enjoying this as much as I am! **


	4. Chapter 4: The Tributes

The black car wove through the Capitol streets. Jupiter stared out of the window as they passed through an area that had been reduced almost to rubble and tried to remember everything he could about the games. Normally the tributes came from the Districts and were introduced to the Capitol, but this time everyone was already from the Capitol. A wild hope rose and the eleven year old couldn't stop himself from asking "We're not going to be visiting District Seven, are we?"

"No dear, I'm afraid that wouldn't be appropriate. We've redecorated one of the former tribute buildings with typical decor from each district on each floor so you can experience a little of what life is like there, though."

"Oh." Jupiter fell silent and looked out of the window as the car wove through the Capitol streets. For a brief, shining moment he had wondered if they would somehow reverse the experiences of regular tributes and send each of the chosen tribute representatives out into the districts. He might have got to see his Mum that way, though District Seven was probably pretty big. He didn't even know where she was living... and now he was never going to see her again. Before he could stop it, his face crumpled and he let out a sudden sob, hating himself for looking weak. Now everyone was going to see, and he was going to...

A warm arm came around his shoulders and Jupiter found himself pulled into a hug. "Don't be sad" said a sweet voice, and he realised the girl - Aspen, wasn't it? - was actually comforting him. The unexpected kindness only made him cry harder even as he tried to stop, spluttering apologies and trying to wriggle free when it was quite impossible. The girl was stronger than she looked. Finally, he got a grip on himself and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

"Sorry, its just...my Mum's in District Seven. She got sent there after the rebellion. I thought - just for a minute - that maybe I'd get to see her again"

"My Mum used to live in District Seven, but she lives in the Capitol now." Aspen seemed completely unconcerned by his emotional outburst, weaving her hands in a series of graceful movements as she spoke. Her tone of voice suggested they were having completely normal conversation, then evidently something occurred to her. "Where _are_ we going, Miss...Miss..." she seemed confused, looking at the woman in the front seat with eyes that were just a little too wide.

"Call me Mrs Oakley" the woman said "I come from District Seven too. My husband used to be the Mayor there."

"Why isn't he the Mayor any more?"

"He died, dear. And then I was asked to be Capitol liaison for District Seven. I expect that was because people liked him. Anyway, here I am, and look - here we are!" the car slowed to a halt and she gestured to a multi-storey tower block, one of the highest in the area.

It wasn't until they were inside that Jupiter realised that it was a real tribute building, probably the same one that the tributes from the 74th and 75th games had used. As Aspen continued to ask questions about what was happening he tried to remember more things about the games, but all he kept remembering that he was younger than anyone else who had ever taken part in the games, and the scared, panicky feelings made it too difficult to think about anything else.

* * *

Eller Bright had been expecting sullen teenagers, tearful teenagers, even angry teenagers. All of those he felt he could have coped with. But instead he had a pair of young siblings, one of whom was barely old enough to be able to read and write, let alone be facing the games. It was just the eventuality that President Paylor had mentioned and he felt sure that the little boy would get plenty of supporters simply due to his age. But as for his chances...

Right there and then the quasi-escort decided simply to give these two kids the best few days possible. True, there wasn't going to be the excesses that were the trademark of previous games, but they could at least have fun and think as little as possible about what to come. When the little boy jumped onto the sofa without taking his shoes off, Eller resisted the temptation to say anything.

"What do we call you?" the girl, Saoirse, asked him.

He had been supposed to say Mr Bright, but that seemed cruelly formal now. "Eller Bright is my name. I got voted District Five's Capitol liaison so I guess that's why I'm here now"

"Did you know Aunt Cyra?" the little boy asked excitedly, jumping off the sofa and running up to him with wide eyes.

"He means Cyra Luned. She won the 53rd games. She was our Mums'... um, I mean, she used to visit our Mum every year..."

Eller looked briefly away and blinked hard. "I knew her" he said after a pause "After she won the games, she came to see me, to apologise. See, my son Leno was the male tribute that year." He cleared his throat. "Guess that's another good reason for me to be here."

Saoirse nodded and fell silent. After a respectful pause of two or three seconds her brother piped up cheerfully "So what do we do now, Uncle Eller?"

Eller had been instructed to sit his tributes down to watch the reapings, which thankfully this year wasn't the pageant it had been in the past. The recap programme would last a mere forty five minutes, but keeping a six year old sitting down for that length of time..? Thankfully the tribute quarters had been well-stocked with food and drink. The escort prepared two large chocolate milkshakes and filled a bowl with sweets and candies, placing them on the table in front of the sofa (which was now unattractively decorated with small shoe prints). Sure enough, by the time the opening credits began both children were sitting and watching.

* * *

"Mrs Oakley, may I have a pencil and paper please?"

Jupiter was sitting with Aspen on the most comfortable sofa he'd seen for almost a year; in front of a massive television set. The rest of the apartment was decorated oddly, or so it seemed to Jupiter. Almost all the furniture was either carved from wood or fashioned from hewn logs, and there was an outdoorsy smell he was unfamiliar with. It was nice, though. Instead of a window over the city there was a screen showing a vast forest. Their escort had told them that they had to watch the reaping recaps.

"That's okay" Jupiter said. It had been so long since anyone had spoken nicely to him and sounded like they meant it that he wouldn't even have minded if this kind woman had sent him to clean out the toilet.

"What are you going to write?" Aspen scooted over to sit closer, looking over his shoulder at the blank pad of paper he'd been given.

"I'm going to write down the names of the other tributes so we can see who we're up against."

Aspen looked slightly vague for a moment and then, after a pause that was just long enough Jupiter thought she wasn't going to say anything else, asked "So we can see who we want to be friends with?" Again she moved her fingers in that strange, intricate way.

"Well, so we can decide who we might ask to be our allies" Jupiter felt uneasy, though he wasn't sure why.

"What's an ally?"

"It's...well, someone you meet up with in the games, and you help each other..."

"Allies means friends." The girl said it as if the matter was settled, and fixed her attention to the screen.

As was traditional, the reapings were shown in district order, though on this occasion several district representatives had been selected simultaneously, and the whole affair had been over with in a little under two hours. District One was represented by Hector Mansfield, a 16 year old boy who had to be escorted to the stage and Ellis Lorazinine, a 14 year old girl with silver hair down to her hips. Both of them cried.

"They're sad" said Aspen, sounding sorry for them.

"Do you think they'll want to be allies?"

"We could ask them?"

District Two reaped a thirteen year old boy who, despite holding his head up high barely topped four feet tall, going by the unlikely name of Brutus Legona.

"I'll bet he gets teased at school" Jupiter said, feeling sorry for the boy

"I'm going to ask him if he wants to be allies" said Aspen firmly. The female tribute was eighteen, the daughter of one of Snow's government, and she too stared at the restless crowd as if they were beneath her. Magnificent Glory meant that District Two's tributes both bore the names of former victors. Caesar Flickerman mused that it could be a good omen, but his usually cheerful demeanour seemed somehow forced this evening.

District Three reaped 14 year old Lorcan Heavensbee and 17 year old Sparkle Rizla. Both were crying, and Sparkle called out for her mother. Neither Jupiter nor Aspen spoke.

District Four reaped a sobbing ten year old girl called Viola Dupont and a 17 year old boy called Lavender Meadows who also appeared to be on the verge of tears. Jupiter bit his lip, thinking that he didn't have the worst odds after all.

Mrs Oakley gasped when she saw District Five's representatives.

"He volunteered..." she whispered, horror stricken.

Jupiter looked at Aspen. Neither of them spoke. Then he wrote ALLIES beside District Five on his notepad.

Riscan Crane, the 16 year old male representative for District Six, screamed abuse as he was dragged onto the stage. The voiceover said he was the younger cousin of Seneca Crane, a former head gamemaker. Another sixteen year old, Everlove Honeybell, completed the district pair though she seemed to actively be trying to get as far away from Riscan as possible.

Jupiter mentally blocked out the familiar shouts of "Traitor Boy" when his own reaping was televised, just as he had a few hours earlier (was that all it had been?). Caesar was telling the audience that Jupiter's mother had been one of Snow's advisors, and that Aspen's father was a gamemaker. Given that they hadn't cried and were apparently already allies Jupiter thought his odds were slightly higher, especially when Caesar said in the same, tired voice that they were an interesting pairing.

District Eight reaped 17 year old Cecil Sawtry and 16 year old Cordelia Hax. Several people shouted "traitor" when Cordelia was reaped, making Jupiter's heart wrench, though he'd never met the girl. Neither of them looked like they wanted to be friends with anybody.

"Another victor namesake!" Caeser announced when 17 year old Abundance Verity was reaped for District 9. She stood shivering on the stage with her arms wrapped around herself. A fourteen year old was reaped as her partner, but here there was another volunteer and an 18 year old introduced himself as Richmond Halifax. He smiled at Abundance when they shook hands. Jupiter thought wistfully that Richmond was exactly the sort of person he would like to ally with, and most likely exactly the sort of person who would laugh in his face.

At District Ten the commentary paused briefly after Wilbraham Bailey, 14, was reaped so the name of the girl tribute wasn't immediately clear. When it resumed, Caesar introduced 18 year old Cleopatra Flickerman in a voice that was only half as strong as before.

16 year old Raven Brooks took the stage for District 11 and blew a raspberry into the microphone when asked to repeat his name. The District representative let out a burst of laughter that she quickly quashed before reaping Ki'yana Rankine, who despite being only thirteen already carried herself like a warrior. Jupiter wondered if one of her favourite make-believe games had been 'what would I do when I was reaped?'

Goldstein Trinket, nephew of the previous District 12 escort, was the 15 year old male tribute for what used to be the final district. He stood alone onstage as unsurprisingly 12 year old Eloise Snow was reaped. The grandaughter of the former President of Panem was sobbing as she approached the sage and the blonde escort who looked to still be in her teens put an arm around her as she asked if there any volunteers. A full minute passed before a voice tentatively called out "I volunteer as tribute" and a pretty fifteen year old took the stage. She gave her name as Chenille Whitemark and her eyes didn't stop darting around the crowd. Jupiter didn't think she looked like she'd volunteered willingly.

"I think I'd like to be friends with her" Aspen said slowly. Jupiter wrote the girl's name in his book.

District 13 was represented for their first ever games by 18 year old Arctic Corbin and 15 year old Laurana Pinkerton. The young man appeared more miffed than upset at being reaped. Jupiter wrote his name down and sat staring at the book.

"What do we do now?" Aspen asked

"I guess...well, in other games, they have the tribute parade, then there's the training, and then everyone gets interviewed..." Jupiter's voice faded. He didn't want to think about what came after that.

"There's no parade this year" Mrs Oakley said "President Paylor said it wouldn't be appropriate. "You'll be training tomorrow though, so after dinner you should both try and get a good night's sleep."

"Dinner!" exclaimed Aspen as she headed towards her bedroom, calling over her shoulder "We always wash our hands before dinner. Mom told me."

Jupiter frowned thoughtfully as she left. "Mrs Oakley, is Aspen...okay?"

"How do you mean, dear?"

"I mean, she's so..." Jupiter trailed off, uncertain what to say. That she seemed a bit slow and she moved her hands too much when she talked? Mrs Rowan nodded understandingly.

"Aspen is absolutely fine. Her mother is an Avox, so she grew up signing her words as she speaks them. She's also had some health problems in the past, due to a condition that was a lot more common during the Dark Days. They used to call it Downs syndrome, but I don't think it has a name now."

Jupiter's eyes widened in amazement. The name of Aspen's condition completely passed him by, but now he realised what she was doing with her hands. "You mean...she speaks two languages, all the time? And she learned to talk that way? Do you think she'll teach me?" The young boy began to feel a little better about his chances. Aspen was strong, he'd already learned that firsthand. And she was his ally.

* * *

**A/N Aspen, who is _very_ loosely based on a RL friend, is unashamedly one of my favourite tributes. She's going to be one of my leading characters, along with Saoirse and Jupiter so I hope you enjoy her story! Hope you're staying safe, wherever you are.**


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